I did not know I had PTSD until I was well into my 40s.
I knew I had a history. I knew some things had happened that were hard. I knew I had developed ways of managing that I was good at, and I knew those ways had served me well in professional settings. Calm under pressure. High tolerance for difficulty. The ability to keep functioning when things were falling apart around me.
What I did not know was that these were not just personality traits. They were adaptations. And underneath them was a nervous system that had been working very hard, for a very long time, to keep me safe from something that was no longer present.
What Treatment Actually Did.
The treatment I received used bilateral stimulation; a process of alternating left-right sensory input that helps the brain reprocess traumatic memories that have become stuck. I want to be careful here because I am not a clinician, and I would encourage anyone exploring this territory to work with a qualified professional. What I can speak to is what it did for me.
"It gave me back access to parts of myself
that had been locked away."
Not dramatically. Not all at once. But in the months following treatment, I noticed something shifting in how I moved through the world. Old reactions that used to arrive fast and hard began to arrive slower, with more space around them. I could feel the difference between a genuine threat and a pattern my nervous system had mistakenly learned to treat as one. I started to understand, at a level deeper than intellectual understanding, that I was no longer in the environments that had shaped those responses.
What Changed in My Leadership.
What changed for my leadership was quieter but significant. I became less reactive in moments of pressure. Not because I had gotten better at suppressing the reaction, but because the reaction itself had changed. I could be with discomfort without needing to immediately resolve it. I could hold someone else's difficulty without needing to fix it or absorb it. I could stay in a hard conversation longer without the part of me that learned to leave when things got difficult pulling me toward the exit.
I also became more honest about what I did not know and what I needed.
"That last part surprised me most."
The armor had been so thorough, so complete, that I had genuinely lost track of the difference between being fine and performing fine. Doing the work on my nervous system helped me find that distinction again. It turned out I was not always as fine as I had believed. And that honesty, with myself first and then with others, changed the quality of everything.
Why I Share This.
I share this carefully, because this territory is personal and the decision to seek this kind of support is deeply individual. But I share it because I wish someone had told me earlier that the adaptations I was most proud of might also be the things worth examining. That the capacities that made me effective in hard situations had a history. And that getting curious about that history, with real support, could change not just how I felt but how I led.
The work I did on myself is inseparable from the leader I became.
That has been the most important thing I have learned.
This is human work.
Reflection
- What capacities are you most proud of that might also have a history worth understanding?
- Is there a difference between being fine and performing fine in your own life right now?
- What would it mean to get curious about that, with real support?
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